Tony Stark: Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist
by checkmate14
Summary: Tony Stark has his labels, and Bruce Banner gets to see them in action.
1. Playboy

_**Tony Stark: Playboy**_

* * *

Tony Stark is a notorious womanizer. There's a new girl every evening, and when you live in Stark Towers, it's just a thing you have to get used to. Mornings feel odd to Bruce now, if there isn't some skinny super model wearing nothing but one of Tony's shirts lounging against the breakfast bar, giggling and fawning over Tony, who is usually naked except for a pair of boxers that he half-heartedly pulls on, purely to preserve his modesty in front of Bruce.

Bruce wouldn't mind if Tony left the underwear on the floor with the rest of his discarded clothing, but Tony doesn't need to know that.

In his (slightly more) private life, Tony Stark is also a total man eater, but that isn't such common knowledge. All of the Avengers know, obviously. Clint, in particular, is fully aware, or at least, Bruce presumes so, after the rather memorable (in a bad way) afternoon that Barton came around to get Tony to do some upgrades on his bow. Bruce had spent enough time around Tony to be aware of the fact that Tony often forgot to eat when he had a new project, so when they'd been upstairs for over an hour, Bruce thought he'd take up some food.

What he didn't expect to see was Clint's hands grasping handfuls of Tony's hair as the engineer filled his mouth with the agent's dick. Obviously, Tony _was_ hungry, but not for the brie and cranberry sandwich he had brought for him. Bruce backed out of the room slowly, and hoped that neither Tony nor Clint had seen him enter. They've never mentioned it, so he supposes they hadn't.

Steve arrives at the tower, and Bruce lets him in. "Is Stark around?" He asks. "I wanted to see if he could patch up my shield a little." Bruce hesitates, but lets him in.

"Tony!" He calls loudly. "Rogers is here to see you."

In a contrast to his previous reactions to the soldier, Tony is smiling when he bounds down the stairs. "Captain." He salutes, and Steve flips him off, smirking. "What can I do for you?" Tony winks, and Bruce's heart sinks a little as Steve explains his predicament, and Tony leads him upstairs.

Bruce resigns himself to the kitchen, and pours himself a large whisky. He nurses it slowly, and Pepper shows up at the door.

"Are you okay, Banner? You seem low." She asks quietly, and Bruce looks up over the glass, and shrugs. "He's not having sex with Steve, you know." She adds casually, after a long silence. Bruce almost spits the liquid across the room.

"What? Why would he- I- Why would I-"

Pepper laughs. "The only person oblivious enough to the outside world to not see how you feel about Tony is Tony himself." Bruce notices a slight bitterness in her voice, and he bites his lip. "Tell him, Banner. Don't just let him string you along."

Bruce drains the glass and sets it down on the table more firmly that it needs, making Pepper jump a little. "I can't." He states simply, looking her in the eyes. "I can't tell him."

"Why not?" She's not being condescending, or nosy, or anything else. Bruce can't work it out. It's as if she wants him to tell her what she should have done in his place. "And if you say because you don't want to ruin what you have, I will punch you, Bruce Banner, whether the Other Guy likes it or not."

"It's not that." He assures her, but doesn't elaborate.

Pepper frowns, and stands up. "Well, it was nice talking to you, Banner. If you need to talk, you know where I am."

Bruce nods, and contemplates pouring himself another drink.

"You should stop by more often." Tony's voice fills the hallway beyond the kitchen, and the sound of the door opening is heard.

"I sure will. Thanks a lot, Tony." Steve says brightly.

"Any time." The door shuts, and Tony is in the kitchen. "Hey Bruce."

Bruce smiles up at him serenely. "Hey." There's a pause, and Bruce holds out the bottle. "Drink?" He asks, filling the silence.

"You're offering me my own booze?" Tony raises an eyebrow. Bruce looks at it, and back at Tony, and shrugs. Tony laughs. "Go on then. You talked me into it."

Bruce appreciates the irony. Tony has never needed anyone to talk him into drinking. He knows that he should feel guilty for encouraging Tony to have some. He doesn't care. Looking after Tony isn't his responsibility. It has never been his responsibility.

"So, what did Rogers want?" It is meant to sound casual, but it sounds almost accusatory. Tony notices.

"Just a fix on his shield." Tony says. "I have no idea how he managed to dent it. It should have been impossible. But hey, you know Steve as well as I do. Impossible basically sums him up."

Anger flickers across Bruce's face at the comment. He knows better than anyone how Steve Rogers is completely impossible. A fluke, an accident… Now, he knows that Steve Rogers isn't imitable. He wishes he knew that then.

Tony realises immediately what he's said. Bruce expects a remark, or look, or maybe even an apology, although he isn't counting on it. But what he doesn't expect is silence. Tony opens his mouth wordlessly, as if he can't work out how to say what he wants to say. Bruce rubs his eyes with his hands. "It's fine." He sighs. "It's fine."

Tony shakes his head. "I'm sorry." He says quietly, and Bruce nods. He knows already.

Bruce excuses himself, and retreats to the now empty research lab, not to start any experiments, but just to find some space, and have some time for himself. Tony won't interrupt him when he is working. It's an unofficial rule that seems to have fallen into place over the past few months, and Bruce is grateful for it more than ever today.

He slides to the floor and buries his head in his palms. Because he knows why he's not ever going to tell Tony how he feels. It all comes back to Tony Stark, as usual, and his reputation. Bruce doesn't just think Tony is hot (although he is), or smart (which he definitely is) or just appealing because he's famous (of which there is absolutely no doubt). Bruce _loves_ Tony. Bruce loves Tony like he's never felt about anyone before.

And that scares the hell out of him.

Because Tony Stark doesn't do _relationships._ He doesn't do dates or romance. Tony famously does no strings attached one night stands, and Bruce can't. Getting that close to the love of his life, physically, mentally and emotionally, just to then be thrown away like any other guy or girl that Tony met in a bar would tear Bruce apart.

As much as he is tempted to try, Bruce knows he can't hide in the laboratories forever, and makes his way downstairs at the time he and Tony eat every evening. Dinner is on the table, as usual. Bruce sits down.

"Busy?" Tony says, looking across the table at him.

Bruce shrugs. "Pretty busy, yeah."

"What were you doing? You were up there for quite a while."

Bruce bites his lip subtly. "Oh, you know, just bits and pieces."

Tony looks at him knowingly. 'Bits and pieces' was Bruce's way of saying for 'absolutely nothing related to science', and Tony knows it well. He knows it well enough by now to not question any further. "Oh, okay. Hey, I need your advice on something-"

And Tony throws himself into a detailed explanation of his planned additions to the latest Iron Man suit, and Bruce nods from time to time at what he thinks are suitable intervals. Tony hesitates. "You're not listening, are you?" He says, sounding hurt.

Bruce bits his lip, and shakes his head. "Not really, no. Sorry, say it again, I was just…"

Tony shrugs, his mouth set in a straight line. "It wasn't anything particularly important."

"No, Tony, I'm sorry, I was-"

"You've been acting funny recently, Bruce." Tony interrupts, and Bruce shrinks ever so slightly down into his seat. "You've been really distant, especially with me. Is anything wrong? Did _I_ do something wrong?" He's defensive, and Bruce feels terrible.

"No, you haven't. It's not you, it's-"

"Don't finish that sentence, Banner." Tony cuts him off. "And don't bullshit me. Pepper came to see me; she told me you were a bit down. So we are going to have this conversation now, and I'll ask again: did I do something wrong?" It's pointed, and Bruce knows there's nothing to do but be honest now.

"I saw you with Clint. In the lab." He blurts, blushing to the roots of his hair.

Tony clearly isn't expecting this answer. "Oh." He murmurs. "Is it a problem?" He raises an eyebrow.

"I…"

"I never had you pegged as a homophobe, Banner. Not with all the shit you've had to put up with in your life. You know, people judging you_ for things you can't help_?" He spits angrily.

Bruce is taken aback. "Tony, I'm not a _homophobe_!"

"Oh, so it's fine to be gay, or bisexual, or whatever, as long as you don't _flaunt it?_" He fumes, beginning to shake with relentless fury. "Because I will have you know, Banner, that not only does Barton have a _fantastic_ dick, he is also a damn sight more of a friend to me than you are being right now!"

Bruce backs away. "No! I don't have a problem with your liking of guys, Tony!" He shouts over Tony. "I'm fucking _overjoyed, _as a matter of fact."

Tony freezes. "… Excuse me?"

"I was _jealous_, you asshole, not judgmental." Bruce explains. The humiliation of this confession isn't even that bad, since Tony's face clears of anger as he speaks. "I think… No, I know. Tony, I l-"

"Don't say it." Tony silences him before the vital word can leave his mouth. "Don't." He begs. "You don't, Bruce. Trust me, you don't. I tear people like you apart, people who care for me. I did it to Pepper. We're still friends, but, not like we were before. It never works out how you want it to, Bruce. Don't get me wrong; you are gorgeous and clever and funny and 100% bang-able, and we could go upstairs right now and fuck, or make love or whatever it is you dream of from me, but in the end, I'll break your heart. And I can't let myself do that to you."

"You're breaking my heart right now." Bruce murmurs so quietly, it is almost unintelligible. "Every minute you are fucking other people, it's tearing me apart. Because I know you don't do relationships, Tony. I know you don't do what other people do. But I always thought… Hoped, I guess, would be a better word, that maybe that was just because… You never found the right person."

"And you think you're the right person?" Tony says sceptically, and Bruce shrugs.

"I could be." Bruce looks into Tony's eyes, and the other man is thinking, calculating. "There's only one way to find out." And he holds out a hand. It's a simple gesture, and Tony hesitates for a few seconds before reaching out cautiously and taking it. Tony's palm is warm and rough from years of working with his hands, and it fits into Bruce's perfectly. Tony meets his eyes, and inclines his head, just slightly.

Bruce leans in, slow and never letting his gaze leave Tony's, and their lips touch. And it's at that moment that Bruce knows that all along, he was right. Tony is being far more cautious than Bruce expected and Bruce has to prompt the kiss along, pushing his way past Tony's lips with his tongue. Tony gasps at the intrusion, and Bruce pulls away quickly.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that." Bruce looks at Tony apologetically.

"No." Tony says firmly. "No, I was just… surprised, that's all. I couldn't believe how… _right_ it felt." He confesses, and Bruce's heart leaps.

"You mean…"

Tony nods. "Upstairs? While I have no objections usually to sex over a table, I think this deserves something a little more romantic, don't you?" And Tony takes his hand and leads him to the largest bedroom in the tower, where Tony sleeps, and doesn't sleep.

They lie down on the bed, and exchange lazy kisses while taking turns at taking clothes off of the other, until they were both down to just their underwear. "Ready?" Tony breathes, and Bruce nods. Tony reaches down and tugs the thin fabric down Bruce's legs and throws them to the floor. "Oh wow." He mutters, running his hand lightly up and down the length of Bruce's now exposed, half-hard dick and stroking it to full hardness. Bruce bucks and keens at the touch, letting out embarrassing little noises which bring a smile to Tony's face. "You are so damn beautiful, Bruce."

Bruce bites his lip as his back arches involuntarily. "Oh my _god_, stop that, please!" He moans, and Tony does. "Jesus, you are going to make me come _way_ too soon." Bruce complains. "Now let me fucking take off yours, I'm feeling a little self-conscious here." Tony's underwear soon joins Bruce's on the floor, and Tony sighs in relief as his own erect cock is freed from the fabric. They continue kissing, each one messier and sloppier than the last as Bruce teases Tony with feather light touches.

"Make love to me." Tony says gently after a few more minutes of this, groping in the drawer to the side of his bed and throwing a condom and a small bottle of lube at Bruce.

Bruce blinks. "Tony Stark bottoms?" He says, surprised.

Tony grunts. "Not normally. Just you. I trust you. Just go slow, yeah? Haven't done this in a while."

Bruce bites his lip, suddenly a little scared. He had been counting on Tony, the expert, to take control and guide him through. The thought of keeping the Other Guy in check, as well as concentrating on not hurting Tony himself is worrying. "Do you think that is a good idea?"

"It was my idea, Banner. It's obviously going to be a great one."

Bruce can't tell if Tony is being sarcastic or not. "But the Other Guy…"

Tony shrugs awkwardly. "He likes me. He won't hurt me. And you won't let him anyway. We'll be fine. I trust you." He repeats, and Bruce nods once more, and squirts a generous amount of the oil on to his fingers.

"Tell me if I hurt you, okay?" Bruce says, and Tony murmurs his agreement. Nervously, he slides his index finger into Tony, taking it slow, just as he promised. Tony gasps, and Bruce feels Tony's body clenching around the single digit. "Okay?" Tony nods, his eyes screwed closed as the finger moves in circles inside him. Bruce pulls it out, and adds another, crooking and scissoring them apart gently, stretching out Tony's hole. "God, you're so tight." He moans, as Tony squirms underneath him. "You're so perfect." And he bends his fingers at the right angle and they hit the bundle of nerves that make Tony shout.

"Oh, fuck, Bruce, shit, do that again, please!" He begs, thrusting his hips up in a search for friction and release. Bruce obliges willingly, adding a third finger and actively seeking to hit that same spot on almost every other thrust, but still stretching and preparing the other man gently. He is soon greeted by a desperate, writhing mess of a man, hard as a rock and fucking himself down on to Bruce's fingers.

"Do you want another finger?" He asks, and Tony shakes his head.

"Just want… Ohhhh, _fuck_. No, I just want you!"

Bruce removes the three fingers and wipes them on the bed sheet, before ripping open the foil of the condom packet with his teeth and rolling it on carefully. He slicks the rubber with plenty more lube, conscientious of ensuring he wouldn't hurt Tony, before gripping Tony's hips tightly. "Ready?" He whispers, and Tony babbles affirmative nonsense, and Bruce pushes the head of his cock into Tony's slick opening.

They both gasp simultaneously. The sensation is almost overwhelming as Bruce slides further and further into the other man, until he is fully sheathed, his thighs pressing against the smooth, firm flesh of Tony's ass. Bruce opens his mouth to check, but Tony beats him to it. "I'm fucking fine, Banner, now please _move_." He rolls his eyes. Bruce pulls his hips back a few inches, before snapping them forward again, and Tony moans deeply. It is the most beautiful, and the most erotic, sound that Bruce has ever heard.

Bruce pulls out again, further this time, and thrusts back with more force, feeling more confident as Tony responds eagerly. He builds up a steady rhythm, and begins to stroke Tony's leaking dick in time with his hips, eliciting another obscene moan to escape from Tony's lips. His eyes are wide and blown out with arousal. He begins to mutter nonsense words, then it becomes a shout, and Tony is coming, white spurting through Bruce's palm and across the taller man's chest.

Tony clenches as he reaches his climax, and the extra pressure brings Bruce close to the edge. One, two, three more thrusts against Tony's sensitive prostate and Bruce is coming too, his head buried in the crook of Tony's shoulder, biting down on the pure flesh more firmly than he intends to.

"That didn't last long." Bruce laughs, pulling out from Tony carefully and peeling off the spent condom.

Tony laughs, too. "God, I thought I had more control than that. But bottoming is far better than I remembered it to be."

"I guess I'm just fantastic at sex." Bruce teases, though he doubts this is by any means true. He's not had a lot of time for relationships, not since the accident, and he is seriously out of practise.

"Well, that's certainly true." Tony hums, a grin spreading over his face. "Hurts like fuck afterwards though." He stretches across the bed, collapsing down on to the bed and snuggling against Bruce's shoulder.

"Post-sex cuddler? Really, Tony? Oh, the things I am learning about you today." He snorts, tucking his arm awkwardly under Tony's head. The other man smells of cologne and predominately sex, and he looks close to dozing off. "Do you not think you should shower before you fall asleep?" Bruce suggests.

Tony mumbles under his breath, and makes no sign of moving. "Tony?" Bruce asks again. "No? Okay then. Well, I'm going to-" and Tony snuggles closer to Bruce, clutching him tightly and not allowing him to get up. "Tony, I'm not sleeping in your come tonight, at least let me…" He soon realises the effort is futile, and wipes himself and Tony off as best as he can with the corner of the bed sheet. Tony is asleep in seconds, and Bruce, exhausted and bemused by the day's events, doesn't take much longer.

* * *

Bruce wakes the next morning, and Tony is looking at him. Bruce blushes. "Um, hi." He says in a small voice, not quite sure of Tony's reaction.

"Hey."

It is awkward, very awkward, and Bruce is uncomfortable. "I'm going to go and, um, shower. I'm kind of… sticky." And he jumps to his feet and all but runs into the en-suite bathroom and flicks on the water.

He scrubs himself thoroughly, but the sticky feeling doesn't leave. Bruce thinks about the previous night, and he can't believe what he allowed to happen. It wasn't supposed to go like that. He didn't want to be another casual fling for Tony, a solitary night's entertainment because there was nothing better on TV. He knows, or at least, he used to know, that Tony wasn't going to change because Bruce _wanted _him to. It doesn't work like that.

And water is not only coming from the shower head any more, as Bruce considers where this leaves his 'relationship' or 'friendship' with Tony Stark. And the worst thing is that it is entirely his fault.

"Nothing's ruined, and none of it was your fault." Tony says immediately as Bruce returns to the room, preparing to give his little, 'I can find somewhere else to stay for a while' speech that he had planned in the shower. He blinks, and his face distorts into a frown.

"Excuse me?"

"You think you ruined our friendship." Tony supplies helpfully. "And you blame yourself. Don't deny it, Banner. I could practically _hear_ your thoughts streaming from the bathroom like a radio." Tony sits up and runs a hand through his already dishevelled hair, and Bruce smiles at the sight, despite himself. Tony looks so… innocent like this, he thinks, before the 'brand Tony Stark' mask slips on and hides the true man underneath.

"So… If our friendship is not ruined… Where do we stand now?" Bruce says quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed, still wrapped in just a towel. Tony's eyes (not at all subtly) flick down to where a trail of hair disappears underneath the cloth, and Bruce coughs self-consciously.

"Oh, um. I'm not _exactly_ sure…" Tony murmurs, still distracted by Bruce's damp skin. Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Somewhere like… More than friends?" He suggests, head tilted to one side in consideration.

"More than friends?" Bruce repeats. It's more than he hoped for, in all seriousness, but he doesn't know whether that is a good idea for him. He knows want he wants; he wants Tony, but he also knows that that isn't really an option. "Can I have some time to, um, think about it?"

Tony nods, but Bruce spots something he can't quite discern in his eyes. He takes a few minutes, and Tony waits almost patiently, only a fidgeting a little and checking the clock to his right hand side three or four times. Eventually, Bruce nods to himself, and Tony looks up. "And?"

"Do you know what _I_ want, Tony?" He asks, smiling softly. "I want _you_. I want to sleep next to you every night, whether we have sex or not. I want to watch dumb movies with you, and have our friends around for dinner and do couple-y things like that. And you know what? If I had my way, I want to marry you someday. I want us to have three kids, and I want us to have an argument about what to name them, because you still whole-heartedly think that naming them after elements on the periodic table is a good idea." Tony laughs at this, and Bruce blunders on, having already deviated from the speech plan, and decides to just wing it. "I don't want to be just casual 'friends with benefits' or just have the occasional fuck if we're both feeling low and horny. I want to be able to call you mine, and tell other people that you are mine. That's what I want, Tony. And in every minute I have spent here for the past few months, and in every moment I spend here after last night, that _want_ grows and grows, and it's starting to become unbearable. I don't want to move out, especially since I'm never going to find such amazing lab facilities, but I just can't stay here another day. We're on the same page about a lot of things, you and I, but not on this. And I can't take it."

Tony looks at him in disbelief for a few seconds, then begins to laugh. He laughs loudly until tears streak down his cheeks. Bruce sits uncomfortably, embarrassed and upset, and now Tony is _laughing_ at him. He stands up to leave, clutching his towel tightly around his waist.

"Don't you fucking dare leave, Bruce. Not the room, not the tower, and certainly not me." Tony says, and Bruce spins around in confusion. "Maybe I can't promise to be everything you want. My last actual relationship ended horrifically with revelations about four Playboy bunnies and an Abercrombie and Fitch underwear model with a lot more going on under the underwear, it's true, and yes, I'm terrible at commitment. But what you said yesterday, about finding _that_ person? You were wrong. I'd already found him. I just hadn't realised. I can't be all that you want me to be, Bruce, but I will try my best, all the same. I _want _to try for you."

Bruce doesn't realise he is crying until Tony crosses the room and wipes them from his face. "If you'll have me, Dr Banner?" He murmurs, and presses his lips to Bruce's neck, just underneath his left ear, and Bruce nods.

"Always, Mr Stark."

* * *

It takes the press all of thirty six hours to catch on to what they are calling the 'Scandalous Secret Affair', but Bruce doesn't really mind. Tony spends a lot of his time fending off furious mothers who claim that his public same-sex relationship is disgraceful, as he was such an idol to their little Jimmy's and Jane's. Tony just laughs, and says that he personally thinks that being openly in love is far less offensive in his mind than his previous exploits into alcoholism, self-destructive tendencies and off-the-record counts of casual sex, which tends to shut them up for a day or two.

Bruce, on the other hand, doesn't face a speck of the media onslaught- he wonders whether Tony's lawyers had anything to do with that, or whether the general public were just too scared of the Other Guy to say a bad word against him. Tony teasingly tells him it's because everyone cares more about Iron Man than the Hulk, and Bruce tells him that next time, the Other Guy will let him fall on his ass from outer space and not bother catching him.

But overall, despite the increased interest, Bruce is happier than he has ever been in his life. 'Tell him,' Pepper said. It was the best advice he'd ever received.

Bruce makes a mental note to send her some flowers.

* * *

**AN: I literally just had an idea of making this into a four part series of Tony Stark: Genius, and Billionaire and Philanthropist... Good idea? Bad idea?**

**Anyway, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are love and all that jazz :)**

**Love, C x**


	2. Philanthropist

"But why can't I just wear one of my own suits?" Bruce asks with a frown on his face, gesturing his hands towards his wardrobe.

"Because, Bruce, firstly, none of your suits even fit you properly." Bruce tries to protest but Tony holds up a hand to silence him. "Secondly, it's a charity event. Don't be so selfish. Thirdly, you know Natasha will show up in something see-through and tight enough to see the gun strapped to her thigh, and Thor in his traditional Asgardian ceremonial robes and Rogers probably wearing something straight out of the 1940's US Army issue… Everyone is going to be out to impress, and we don't want you to be known as the fashionably incompetent Avenger, do we? And finally, we are going out as a couple for the first time publically, and I have a reputation to uphold." Tony lists, a grin spreading across his face as he goes on.

Bruce rolls his eyes. "So, you don't want me to be an embarrassment from your sterling public image? Then why don't we just go as friends like we usually do to these kinds of things?"

"Bruce, I was kidding. Besides, we're not _just _friends any more, and I'm not ashamed by it." Tony says firmly, and Bruce knows that Tony has won.

"Fine, I'll get a new bloody suit, if it makes you happy." Bruce concedes eventually, a smile tugging at his lips. "But I draw the line at garish colours. No powder blue, no crimson… Nothing _outlandish._"

"Oh, God, no. Not on you. Definitely not." Tony agrees. "You don't have the persona to pull off plaid, or pink and blue stripes or something more interesting. I think your best bet would be something classical. Black. Three piece. I'll get one of my people on it."

Bruce smiles fondly, but decides not to question who exactly Tony's 'people' could be. Tony leaves the room, murmuring something about fittings and measurements and phoning his people, and Bruce stands, bemused, wondering how it all came to this. One minute he is moping, sure he'd never have a chance with Stark and coming too close to drowning his sorrows in an expensive bottle of Tony's booze, and the next, he has the very same man writhing under his less than expert ministrations. Now, Tony is buying him suits and taking him to his obligatory social functions as his _date_.

All Bruce can think is that life moves pretty fast when you spend too much time hanging around superheroes, demigods and international superspies.

"Someone's coming up to do your measurements in a half hour." Tony steps back into the room, and grins. "I said I knew them from memory, but I was told that penis length wasn't required information."

"You did not." Bruce groans, and Tony just shrugs. "Well, that's… flattering, I suppose. Not that I want to think about exactly when you measured my dick."

"It goes hand in hand with inventing things, Brucey. The ability to accurately measure just by looking. And touching. Touching helps. A lot." Tony reaches down and palms Bruce gently through the material of his pants, and Bruce arches into the touch helplessly. "I mean, I probably _could _get a pretty accurate reading on the _relevant_ dimensions, but hey, there is nothing sexier than a well fitted suit, so I figure I'll leave this one to the professionals."

"And speaking of- ah, fuck- professionals, do you not think we should leave this for l-later?" Bruce groans, as Tony speeds up his pace and leans in to bite in the spot just under Bruce's ear which drives him wild. "Tony, stop it, I'm not going- _shit_- anywhere with you with a massive hickey on my neck."

He is rock hard by now, and really didn't want to suggest leaving this until after he has been fitted, since Tony has a habit of doing this sort of thing very seriously, and therefore, it was likely to take hours, but the thought of New York's most prestigious designers walking in on him being fucked long and hard by his boyfriend is a sobering thought.

"They aren't due for another-" Tony checks his watch quickly. "Twenty three minutes." He smirks, his hands dancing around Bruce's flies, teasing him. Bruce shakes himself mentally, and tries to think straight, despite the distraction of painfully hard dick and eager boyfriend. "And so what if they did walk in? I'm sure you'd give them quite a show." Tony murmurs, his voice dropping to a level that is barely audible. "You, eager and begging for my cock as I slam you against the wall?"

Bruce inhales sharply. "Tony, I…" His mouth is ashamedly dry and he struggles to find sufficient words to reply to that mental image.

"You'll be trying to touch yourself, but I'll pin your hands above your head. Helpless, that's what you'll be." Tony smirks, taking another step towards Bruce, his tongue flicking out and moistening his lips. "Free for me to worship every inch of your body in exactly the way it deserves."

He trails off, and Bruce whimpers. They are almost pressed against each other now, and Bruce closes the gap and grinds his hips firmly down onto Tony's thigh. Tony grabs his ass and squeezes it hard, and Bruce sinks against Tony's warm body, still getting off by humping his leg like a horny dog, but Bruce is too turned on to be embarrassed. Tony makes a low moan in his ear, and Bruce swears quietly in response.

"Tony, I- I'm gonna…" Bruce warns, and Tony manages to unbutton the pants awkwardly, his hand stuck between them, and shoves his hand into Bruce's underwear.

"Let me help you with that." He whispers smoothly, and Bruce gasps, and comes, hard, his head buried in Tony's shoulder as he pants. He looks up when he has regained his composure to see Tony smirking down at him. "You have all the self-control of a twelve year old who just discovered masturbation, Dr. Banner."

Bruce bites his shoulder, firmly, but not too hard, in retaliation. "You should just take it as a compliment." He says, wincing as he stands to feel the rapidly cooling stickiness in his underwear. "How long do I have?"

Tony glances at his watch once more. "Twelve and a half minutes. Although the fashion industry in this town is notorious for its over-punctuality, so six, maybe. Seven, if you are very lucky."

Bruce sighs. "Right. Well, I'll be quick."

* * *

Even with the humiliation of the disapproving looks of New York's top designers when he eventually emerged, the fitting did go okay, and Tony approved of the resulting suit, and that was all that mattered.

Bruce stands awkwardly in the foyer of a fancy hotel that he's never been important or rich enough to even walk past before as he watches Tony schmooze with other wealthy business people, completely in his element. He is just considering taking an unnecessary bathroom trip just to get out of the situation when someone taps him on the back. He turns around to see Pepper grinning at him, wearing a tight fitting black dress and drawing looks from all directions.

"Fancy seeing you here." She smiles, and Bruce sighs in relief.

"Pepper, I swear, I have no idea what I'm doing here." He confesses, and Pepper chuckles. "I mean, it's not like I actually have any money to donate, and I highly doubt my presence is going to provoke any sort of charitable nature in people. I'm just... Tony's arm candy. I'm really not comfortable with this whole thing."

"It's all part of the job, I'm afraid. Tony is expected to show up at things like this, and he's expected to bring someone with him. I saw Steve by the bar earlier, though; you can hide with him and I'll tell Tony where you've gone, if you want." She offers.

"Pepper, you are a live saver!" He gushes, and darts away as fast as possible. Bruce prefers quiet places and minimal fuss, and not just because of the Other Guy. He doesn't possess the communication skills that Tony has, and being put into a room full of strangers and expected to make small talk is just about his worst nightmare, even before you factor in that these people live in a completely different world.

He finds Steve quickly and sinks down into a chair next to him. Tony had predicted correctly, and the soldier is dressed in his best military attire, all neatly pressed, and Bruce is exceedingly glad that Tony had forced him into getting a new suit; otherwise, he'd only feel more out of place than he already does. "Captain."

"Dr. Banner." He returns, a grin tugging on his lips. "Not your kind of scene either, then?"

Bruce chuckles. "I must say, I prefer a laboratory to a party, but Tony wanted me to come and who am I to refuse him?" Bruce explained, reaching for the drink that Steve had all but pressed into his hand. "And who knows? Maybe I can scare some people into donating or something. Ten million bucks on the table right now or the Other Guy will come out and knock your head against the wall. That kind of thing."

Steve snorts. "I'm going to hope that won't be necessary, Doctor."

"I'm with you there, Rogers." A voice comes from behind them, and Bruce looks around to see Tony holding a champagne flute and wearing his very recognisable 'Brand Tony Stark' expression. "I think the idea was for us to do some press and some photos, and see if the general populous of Wealthy America would be persuaded into throwing some money in the pot at the sight of the unlikely saviours of Earth or whatever. And speaking of, Rogers, Fury wants you out mingling. Apparently patriotism is a great money spinner, and there are some old, rich fuckers who still remember you from back in the day."

Bruce sees Steve's face contort into a grimace, and pats his arm reassuringly. "I know it's kind of, well, shit, but it's all for a good cause." He says in an attempt to make the captain feel more comfortable. Steve sighs and rubs his eyes with unnecessary force, before proceeding to drain his drink and plaster on his own 'Oh wow it's so good to meet you' smile. Once Steve has left, Tony takes his seat. "This sort of thing must be hard for him." Bruce comments, his eyes flicking across the room to where the soldier has attached himself to some eighty something year old bazillionaire and his twenty six year old girlfriend, who was clearly gushing over the reality of his childhood hero. Bruce swears he sees a check book emerge from his pocket.

Tony just shrugs. "It's hard for all of us. Except Thor, of course. He's just strolling around, as oblivious as ever in his fucking cape."

"Did he at least leave Mjolnir at home?"

"Nope. And I know for a fact Natasha has stashed four guns and a knife on her person."

"Where's Barton?" Tony indicates upwards silently, and sure enough, Clint has managed to find a conveniently sized hole near the ceiling to hide in, his bow in his hand and ready to fire. "Well, that's comforting." Bruce says drily. "Now when exactly did you say we could leave?"

* * *

Bruce manages to hold himself together until the formal dinner, mainly with the help of Tony and the other Avengers, but when they sit to eat, he isn't placed anywhere near anyone he knows. And to add insult to injury, the people surrounding him keep sending him odd glances, like he is about to turn green and kill them all. Bruce sighs, staring at his watch. He makes a mental note to get Tony to take a look at it, because he swears the second hand is going slower than it should be. Every moment drags painfully as he eats his ridiculously expensive and extravagant meal in awkward silence.

The waiting staff starts to clear away the dishes and Bruce can't take it anymore. He quietly excuses himself from the table, but no-one really looks up anyway. Hurrying slightly, he navigates the building to find the nearest bathroom in which to shut himself. Splashing a little water on his face, he tries to regain his composure when the door swings open, and Tony slips inside.

"I saw you get up from the table. Are you okay?" He asks, concerned.

Bruce nods. "I just… I don't do great when it comes to big crowds. Especially when the crowds in question are just as eager to get as far away from me as possible as I am to get away from them."

Tony's eyes flash dangerously as he looks at Bruce, his lips pressed into a hard line. "Did someone say something?" He asks aggressively, looking ready to storm out there and break some faces if needs be.

Bruce shakes his head quickly, smiling softly. "No, Tony, it's okay. I think they're just… A little uncomfortable around me. People find it hard to look past the Other Guy. I'm used to it. The little glances just get to you when you have to face them repeatedly for extended periods of time."

"Bruce, if you want to leave, we can. Everyone would understand." Tony says sincerely, but Bruce shakes his head. Grabbing a towel from the pile next to the sinks, he dries the water from his face before replying.

"They wouldn't understand. They'd spin all sorts of shit. If anyone is ever going to take us seriously as a couple, we're going to have to sit this one through." He says sadly. "But if one more person looks at me from the corner of their eye like I'm about to explode, the Other Guy is probably going to make an appearance."

Tony laughs, despite the seriousness of the comment, and Bruce scowls at him. "Well…" Tony grins, his words rolling from his mouth as smooth as ever. "You have been looking pretty tense recently. Maybe you just need to, ahem, blow off some steam, so to speak?"

"Seriously? You're really encouraging this _here_?" Bruce says sceptically. "I really don't think so, Tony." As he speaks, he steadfastly ignores the growing hardness in his well-fitted suit pants. Tony, however, doesn't, and eyes the evidence pointedly until Bruce is forced to concede. He sighs exhaustedly, and Tony beams, tugging him into the cubicle.

"I've always wanted to do this." Tony confesses gleefully, as he pulls a condom out of his breast pocket.

Bruce gives him _a look_. "Tony, put that away right now. I don't care how much you've fantasised about it- you are not _fucking_ me, in a _bathroom_, when a thousand people are just beyond that door eating god knows what, and the whole place is swamped with paparazzi." Tony's face falls visibly and Bruce groans. "I said, no. At least, not this time."

"Can I suck you off?" Tony bargains unashamedly, his hands playing with the button of Bruce's pants. Bruce's breathing hitches, and he nods shakily. Tony drops them to Bruce's ankles with no bother, followed by his underwear. And then Tony pauses, as if he is eventually actually considering the mechanics of giving someone a blowjob in a compact toilet cubicle. "Er…"

"Kneel." Bruce says, more forcefully than he originally intended, and Tony blinks, surprised, before sinking to his knees. Bruce makes a mental note of Tony's expression right now, smirking slightly. He weaves his hands into Tony's hair, encouraging him as he takes Bruce into his mouth, sinking all the way down, and then he swallows. Bruce gasps loudly. "Shit, Tony…" He mumbles, consciously trying to control his volume. He can feel Tony's throat tight around his head, and the pressure feels amazing. Tony was right- this was a great idea. Tony bobs his head- swirling his tongue artfully over ever sensitive point. Bruce's moans are getting loud and he knows it.

"Brother Stark! Brother Banner! Commander Fury would like me to alert you to the fact that some of the guests would be encouraged to be more generous if they could get some images of us as a team!"

Bruce groans, but from exasperation, not arousal. "Uh, we'll be, um- three minutes!" He manages to spit out, Tony still working strong on his cock.

The door opens again, and Bruce hopes desperately that it's just another Avenger- preferably Steve, because then, they could just scar him for life and send him running. They had, however, no such luck. "Is that Stark on his knees in a public bathroom?" Clint sniggers, and Tony pulls off of Bruce, who is, incidentally, about ten seconds from orgasm.

"Fuck you, Barton!" He yells, his voice sounding suitably hoarse from sticking cock down his throat, which doesn't really help matters; the men outside the door snigger even more. "Get out so I can finish giving Bruce a mind-numbingly good orgasm, and then we will do photos and whatever Fury wants."

Tony waits for the sound of the door swinging shut before he looks back up at Bruce, who is aware that his cheeks are flushed bright red. "You liked that, didn't you?" Tony says quietly, and Bruce nods furiously, too embarrassed to speak. "You liked Thor and Barton knowing what we were doing in here." He punctuates every few words with a firm lick from base to head, and Bruce has to resist the urge to grab Tony's head and bury his cock in his mouth. One last flick of the tongue to his sensitive head and Bruce moans a warning, just in time for Tony to take him into his mouth fully and swallow down every drop of come.

Tony smacks his lips after, and Bruce laughs. "You've got a bit of- here, let me get it for you." He says, licking a thin line from the corner of Tony's mouth.

"All clean?" Brue nods. "Good. Photos, then?" Tony asks, reaching to unlock the cubicle door.

"What about you?" Bruce says, pulling his own pants back up as he glances down at Tony's.

The other man shrugs. "It'll be an interesting talking point, I'm sure. Fuel the gossip magazines for a few weeks."

"Idiot." Bruce grins, pulling the two of them out of the cubicle to see- "Clint, what the hell?" Bruce yells upon seeing the Avenger leaning casually against a sink.

"You're a pervert." Tony says flatly, pushing him out the way in order to wash his hands.

"Says the one giving out blowjobs in public toilets." Clint counters. "Come on, let's go get these fucking photographs taken so we can all go home."

Bruce, who, by this point, is just exhausted from the evening's events, can't help but agree that home is starting to sound really good by now.

And besides, he still needs to repay the favour.


End file.
